A Look in Her Life
by Unlegally Insane
Summary: Sequences throughout Fleur's life, as she contemplates beauty, and her attraction a certain Weasley. T for themes, one shot


**Disclaimer: I am not JKR, therefore I own nothing.**

When she was little, Fleur liked being beautiful. She liked the way her Mama's friends would coo over her. Fleur liked being the center of attention, the way they always fussed over her. She enjoyed being beautiful, and pitied the other little girls. They didn't have her good looks.

Even as a child, she knew she was special. Her hair was always perfect, not like poor Aimee whose hair frizzed. Her eyes were wide, a perfect shade of blue. Once, a poet described her eyes as "God reaching down from heaven above/ to create a shade of blue we all must love." She wasn't like Madeleine, whose eyes were a dull brown, and watery.

She never realized there was more to herself than beauty.

Every night, before she went to bed, her mother would kiss her forehead, then her cheeks. In a gentle whisper, she would say, "Stay beautiful, _mon amour_, for that is what truly matters. _Je t'aime, belle_." Those words always made Fleur feels so happy. She had what mattered, she would succeed in life.

- - -

When she went to Beauxbatons, Fleur liked being beautiful. She didn't have to work hard to get friends. All the girls wanted to be near her, in hoped that some of her beauty would rub off on them. She used her beauty, coaxing them to help her, to do her homework for her. In exchange, she would do their hair for them. She never felt guilt for her actions.

As a student, she learned many things, but they never seemed to apply to her life. What good was it to learn how to levitate something? She could bat her lashes at any male and they would gladly lift it for her. What use was it learning how to turn water to gold? She had plenty of gold in the family vault, and would get more when she married a rich man. She underestimated the power of the mind, for how did she need it when she had the power of beauty?

She never realized she could be greater.

Fleur settled for mediocrity in her school work. She could have done better, could have been the top student, but she didn't care. She thought she wouldn't need magic. After all, she was part veela. She could get any man she wanted, and they would do whatever she asked. She never tried to distinguish herself for anything but her looks. Mama always said smart women intimidated men. Beautiful women intimidated men even more. Who would want a smart, beautiful woman?

- - -

When she went to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, Fleur liked being beautiful. She liked the way she made the boys swoon. The pathetic British boys amused her, as she watched them drool over her. She enjoyed her power, enjoyed watching them scramble when she asked for something. She enjoyed the way they blushed when she smiled at them. Fleur didn't think it was bad that her veela powers were so strong. She liked the power it gave her.

As a champion, Fleur used her beauty once again. When she pouted at Madame Maxine, her Headmistress, and begged to know the first task, Madame complied immediately. When she pouted at the blonde Hogwarts champion and asked if he knew how to solve the egg puzzle, he responded immediately. He gave her the way to solve it, and also what he thought it meant, without stopping for a breath. Fleur barely needed to work. Yes, it was disappointing she could get rid of that Grindylow by flirting, but _la vie continue_, and her sister was fine. Gabrielle was excited that young boy, Harry Potter, had saved her. Fleur didn't think much of the Boy-Who-Lived. He wasn't that attractive.

She never thought she could do better.

Fleur didn't want to win. She wanted men to be attracted to her. She used this as a press opportunity. Flirting with the Durmstrang and Hogwarts boys alike, her name became known through the schools. She was the beautiful one, the one every boy wanted. And Fleur was content to be that, and looked down her nose at the silly girls who went to Hogwarts, who thought knowledge would get them places. How utterly ridiculous.

- - -

When she went to work at Gringotts, Fleur liked being beautiful. Her English improved rapidly, as all the men talked to her. Five men tutored her in English. And without her beauty, they wouldn't have helped her. Even the goblins were taken by her beauty. They treated her better than anyone else there. Mama was right, beauty was what mattered.

As a worker, Fleur valued her beauty. She could charm men into depositing more money than they initially planned, or into giving Gringotts more business. The other women there didn't like her, thought she was a whore for how she acted. But Fleur didn't care about them, they were merely jealous of her beauty.

She never thought they could be right.

Fleur enjoyed her minor triumphs as a worker. She didn't mind she was coasting along on her job. With very little real effort, she was one of the most successful workers. She had many acquaintances among the men, people she could talk to on breaks. Among the women, she had one acquaintance, who would take her to bars and dance clubs. She didn't have anyone she was really close to though. She didn't need anyone, she was too beautiful to need anyone.

- - -

When she met Bill Weasley, Fleur hated being beautiful. He walked right past her, and commented to his friend, "That must be the one everyone says is a whore." His friend was too busy staring at her to hear it. But she did. Those words cut her to the bone, cut right through the defensive wall her beauty had given her. Her face flushed with anger, and she tossed her hair angrily, before commenting to her sister, who was visiting, "That must be the _dégoûtant brute_ who works here."

As an angry woman, Fleur threw herself into her work. She tried to make customers based off her skill, rather than her ability to dazzle. Men and women walked out of her office in awe of her persuasion, her ability to do complicated math in her head, and her intense business intuition. The women began to despise her even more, because she wasn't a whore now, she was a formidable opponent. Singlehandedly, Fleur raised profit margins by three percent. Watch out world, here I come became her motto.

She knew she could show up that man.

The next time she saw him, he ran into her. He was in a hurry, trying to figure out some complicated curse on an object. Interested, Fleur picked the parchment off the ground. Quickly, she solved the problem. It was simple, really, to her. The surprise in his eyes made her day. His crooked grin made her heart beat faster. "Well, I guess you aren't just a whore," he had said, before walking away. He made her cheeks flush. No one had ever affected her like this.

- - -

When Bill asked her out, Fleur hated being beautiful. She thought he only wanted her for her body. She thought he only wanted her for her beauty, when she was attracted to him in a much stronger way. His dark brown eyes, his wavy red hair, the fang earring he always wore, it all called to her. She hated the fact that she had feelings in this relationship, for the first time ever, and he was like every other man.

But she accepted anyway. She thought she could get him to like her, to feel like she did. For their first date, she begged to be allowed to plan it. It was her dream date, a picnic in her favorite field in France. She had Apparated the two of them there, and they ate light sandwiches, cool lemonade, and airy pastries. Later, she pulled off her shoes, and loosened the sash of her shirt. Collapsing back on the green grass, she stared at the sky, watching the clouds glide over head. Bill lay down next to her, his arm just grazing her thigh. They lay in silence for a time.

She didn't think she could get any happier.

But, when her pulled her up, and began to twirl her around the meadow, while she was barefoot, she realized she could. They danced for ages, until her sides hurt, and her hair fell out of her carefully styled bun, and her cheeks flushed red. She felt beautiful, truly beautiful inside and out, for the first time. And that was when she fell in love with Bill Weasley.

- - -

When Bill proposed, Fleur loved being beautiful. She had stopped associating beauty with the image in a mirror, and with the joy she felt around him. Unfortunately, she still didn't know how to act around people. She knew she came off as haughty and supercilious to his family. She was frightened, terrified Bill would leave her. He never even mentioned it.

She tried to relate to his younger sister, but she didn't seem to like hairstyles, or make-up, or jewelry, the few things Fleur knew like the back of her head. Instead, this Ginny girl seemed to be most comfortable with flying, and pranks, and hexes. To Fleur, it seemed like there was an inconceivable distance between, them, one she could never cross.

She never thought she could learn how to.

So she withdrew from the Weasley family. She loved sitting quietly at the dinner table, letting the words wrap around her. Sometimes, she believed she could almost see the silvery glitter of the words. She enjoyed watching the loving family interact with each other. While around them, she felt alive, no matter how many disapproving looks she got from Bill's mother. Bill didn't seem to mind the disapproval, but she hated it. She wanted them to love her.

- - -

When Bill was attacked, Fleur didn't care about her beauty. All she could think about was how the love of her life was lying in a bed, after being attacked by a werewolf. She didn't blame werewolves, rather the evilness that thrived in a man which allowed him to do such a thing. All she could was stare helplessly at his mutilated body, and hope he would awake, and come back to her.

When his mother implied that she would leave him, her temper flared. She angrily declared that she was beautiful enough for the both of them. She didn't need his ruggedly handsome looks, she needed the man inside of him. She didn't care he wasn't handsome, all she cared about was that he might be bitter. Too bitter to look at her and see beauty. Fleur wanted to take a knife, and scar her face as well, so he would still want to be with her.

She didn't, afraid of the pain.

When Bill awoke, he still wanted to be with her. A relief she had never known seeped into her very core. She told Bill how she would hurt her face, if her felt it was too hard for her to still be beautiful. All he did was kiss her. In that moment, she knew their love was meant to be, and nothing would come between them.


End file.
